Memorable Days
by DarkestWolfx
Summary: Five sons meant five more memorable Days.


Here is my Christmas gift to you all! Wishes to everyone for however you celebrate this time of year.

This is also styled in a bit of a time-jumping style, but I think it's still quite easy to follow. I don't really write much of her character as such, but there's bit of Lucy in this. I don't see much written for her character, definitely not in TAG works as much, but I've never written anything with her alive, so I thought I would. I've probably worked in TOS mind set for this, but you can read it for TAG too.

* * *

Everyone had been so sure.

At their wedding, the insistence had been that this would be the best day of their life. The one they remembered.

It was, of course, memorable. She'd married Jeff Tracy at long last, after what was definitely the strangest engagement – _"My fiancé has just gone to land on the moon."_ – Yes, it had made perfect sense to all her friends.

Still, it was a memorable day. But as the years drew on, she could easily think of a few more.

* * *

They say your first child is _'always this'_ or _'always that'_.

Usually _'the favourite'_ , or _'the hardest birth'_. The one which put you off having any other additions to a family. The one people always had to try and tell you about, to try and tell you what _they_ felt. And all the while, you know, what you hear isn't what it will necessarily be for you. Yet the more you hear, the more you fear; the more you fear that experience will become yours.

She'd tried not to listen to too many people's opinions, or trust too greatly in what she read. She took heed of Doctor's warnings, but left the rest to remain unsaid. She didn't want to waste her hours listening and then fretting over myths which weren't true. She was very careful, yes, but she didn't tread on eggshells. There were no medical reasons anyone could see which would have implications, so she figured the chances were even.

Some people thought that was unwise, believed Jeff should be doing more to convince her to listen to wisdom of others, but she'd made it clear to him how she felt, and like the husband he was always destined to be, he stood by her at that without question. And she knew it was grating with him too, annoying the young couple.

She wanted to see for herself what childbirth was like (else what was the point?). She wanted to go into it with her opinions and as clear a head as possible. If her opinion changed through that process, so be it, however the one thing she didn't want to do, was fall prey to the tales of others. If she was swayed from having more children through her own learnings, so be it. She didn't want to be swayed from that before she even had _her first._

A large family had always been in her interest, after all.

Jeff had been lucky with two brothers – even though she heard a fair many tales of how useless they were - where as she was an only child. She didn't want that for their children. They both wanted (and knew their children would need) a family.

Jeff had taken to cooking – though on the days he came in late she still cooked for the both of them to his disappointment – and to running her baths, checking the temperature constantly with a thermometer. She'd suggested he just engineer a bath with one, which had actually sent him into attempting that. She soon wished she'd never suggested it.

April was a nice time of year and they'd deliberately tried to time it. When they found out about the baby in the summer last year, she'd held some hope that it would happen.

Of course, people talk; _'second babies are more reliable to dates'_ , _'first babies are never accurate'_ , _'the more you have the more the due dates mean'_. She and Jeff decided to just hope it would work out, but it wasn't going to be the end of the world if it didn't.

Though with all the things she'd heard – no matter how much she tried to block them out – she was surprised when their first boy was right on time, to the _exact date_ and likely the _exact_ hour if Doctor's could have predicted that.

He'd been right on time and Jeff had decided there and then that the boy would take after him and all his military hours speak she'd only recently grown used to.

She'd lost on two accounts, having taken too separate chances. She'd betted he'd end up being late – proven wrong – and one better: that he'd be a she. Thus, Jeff won the toss to name their first son and that seemed perfectly appropriate to her.

After all, it seemed the hopeful and planned eldest of the bunch, was going to take after the Tracy Patriarch.

Their first child, the first day memorable enough to add to the back of their wedding photo album.

Thus was the first day for Scott Carpenter Tracy.

* * *

April was so many things.

Bright and full of life.

Busy and brilliant.

Full of unseen trouble to come all for the sake of a day, one he'd never view like he had as a child.

But he loved it.

* * *

She had some confidence built going into the second birth.

She'd been through it all several months over not long ago, after all.

In fact, Jeff was doing worse than her, something which had a least been a narrow contest the last time around.

He'd fretted and fussed – understandably – and she'd done the same – understandably.

Now, she sat with her feet up, reading, perfectly happy and cocooned in just the right amount warmth against the New Year's continuing winter cold and to suit the unborn baby, whilst he went storming around like a hurricane fretting and fussing – about pillows of all things!

She had to say she was genuinely concerned he was going to work himself into a frenzy _before_ she even went into labour this time. And it wasn't only his nerves she worried for.

"Jeff, you'll make him a worrier if you're not careful." She spoke without even shifting her gaze from the book.

"Who?" He halted and this time she did meet his eyes. The pause in movement seemed to give him some kind of clarity, but the gesture lacked all form as it accompanied the realisation, "Oh, the baby."

That was another myth they'd been told during the first pregnancy: 'your outside behaviour affects the child'. To extents, of course, it did. But not to that length. Certainly not when you were the father as opposed to the mother.

She shook her head instead.

"No. Scott." She flicked her eyes towards the sleeping – luckily - child in the crib. He was amazing for a ten-month-old, worked perfectly to the clock and now at nine at night he was sound asleep as any normal child would likely be. Jeff still had his mouth agape. " _I_ influence the unborn one."

And still he held his mouth open as he looked between Scott and her and then back at Scott. Then back at her. There was the easiest of explanations to solve this.

" _He's_ the little _you_ , remember?"

The second birth though, didn't help her keep her confidence.

One reason was likely Jeff's absence. He'd taken another job come the late spring, departing shortly after Scott's birthday, and whilst she'd assured him it was fine – because really, why shouldn't he take the opportunities thrown at him just to stay home and play skivvy to his wife! – and really it was. She meant it from the bottom of her heart.

Six months and two days down the line, and Jeff was still away whilst she was in hospital with a baby that her calculations made closer to eight months old than nine.

Scott at least was fine sitting quietly in a little crib beside her in the room.

When Jeff finally returned in the last late hours of the evening, she had a small, pale baby in her arms – who she somehow knew would be like her this time - and a still resting Scott beside her.

After the man apologised profusely he settled on the edge of the bed. This was the point where she jumped in and claimed naming privileges for a bundle of insistent and justified reasons.

But she continued a pattern, whether it had ever meant to be one she didn't know, but she found it fitting enough to be worthy of retaining.

She settled on John Glenn Tracy, and made Jeff swear not to be away for the birth of the next one.

* * *

October was a lovely month.

The peak of Autumn.

Full of colour and change.

Primarily, he always remembered his birthday as colliding with the first full moon of October.

And Harvest Moons were beautiful.

* * *

Everything was perfectly turned on its head.

Unlike the previous birth, Lucy was allowing him that extra amount of fussing; unlike the one before it, she was fussing even more.

She'd developed some confidence he supposed. But he also supposed his absence and the baby arriving early had knocked that.

So, he didn't take any jobs this time around, grand as they may have been. He chose not to even mention them, because Lucy – whatever she'd made him promise when John was born – would relent without thought and let him go. But he decided there was more than enough on his plate; with the business, two sons and a beautiful, kind and caring wife to take care of. In his spare time, he busied himself with designing new planes and rockets, just for fun. Fun and the fact that Lucy liked to browse through them from time to time, occasionally even use them as the subjects of her paintings, which she carried on once again during this pregnancy until the 'foot effect' as she called it sunk in.

Scott remained very much the baby he'd always been two years ago, his second birthday now rapidly approaching. Lucille was adamant this one couldn't be late, in case it ran into John's birthday – planning as best as they could to try and keep it to one baby's birthday a month was hard, he'd learnt. He told her not to worry, and the wager emerged from there he supposed.

The six-month-old John was picking up some health and adapting almost directly to Scott's habits. He wondered sometimes if there was a connection between his sons already, one he couldn't see and would never be able to understand; brother's in arms, always. They were like their father and mother respectively it seemed in every living way so far. John was a quiet baby too, silent almost, definitely quieter than his growing brother had ever been (and they'd really thought Scott was quiet by all accounts they'd heard, so the blonde baby was just pushing limits clearly), and whether that came from his own personality or Scott's, he couldn't be sure. He was just glad.

He wondered if all their children would share a bond like that or if this was a one off. He wondered if somehow Scott the eldest already knew John the younger would need his protection. Maybe Scott really was the smaller version of him, whilst John was a mix of them both.

It was easier to think about the relationship the two babies may already have, the relationship they might have with a third.

It was easier to think about a third being here now, as opposed to waiting.

Yes, call him impatient, but if the baby was born late, he got to name him this time. Lucille had been absolutely astounded at his apparent 'childishness'. He'd only placed it on the table to put a smile on her face, and at that he'd at least succeeded.

In the long run, as it was, he was wrong.

Virgil Grissom Tracy wasn't early or late, neither was he exactly on time like the eldest. He very much sat in the middle, was the middle ground of Scott and John, and that was what gave him the inspiration for the most important number of their lives.

* * *

He liked summer.

No school.

No early mornings.

August was like having a birthday month, as opposed to a birth month.

And he was the only one with a definite out of school term birthday; late night parties: non-optional.

* * *

Their usual Valentine's Day evening involved fireworks. It had started by his father setting them off for their first anniversary at the back of the yard and they'd adapted it as their special tradition ever since.

For the past four years, Scott had been in their life. Four years ago, Valentine's Day had been celebrated with a very rotund stomach. The first year, Scott had slept through them, but by the time he was a year and ten months, he wanted in. So for the past two years, he'd sat in their father's arms.

Three years ago, John had followed in Scott's footsteps and slept through them, but whilst she was pregnant with Virgil, the little her had decided he wanted to be in on the trick too. So he'd taken to holding his little arms around her shoulders and sitting in her grasp.

When Virgil was born that summer, she'd expected – and half-hoped – he'd follow in the footsteps of his brothers, but that could never quite be told. Scott growing up definitely didn't help, because the child clearly shared his father's streak for adventure and sometimes she was sure that stopped the now youngest from dozing. Either that, or he was simply desperate to be in on this act with his older brothers, because Scott and John (regardless of the age difference everyone told her would keep them apart) seemed more like eighteen days apart as opposed to a year and a half. The one thing she did discover, which was new, was that Virgil was nocturnal. Mornings… you had no chance at waking him. Evenings… none at settling him.

So, it shouldn't really have surprised her when they all ended up in the garden for 2042's turn at the yearly celebration.

Scott, now coming up for three, was happy to settle with holding his father's hand, actively making attempts at pointing and commenting on the things he did and didn't like, insisting the ones which flew higher were better, nothing else to be said or debated on the matter. Which was really just another sign the boy was definitely taking after his father. Oppositely John, now two years and four months, still preferred to be closer to her. She wasn't opposed to this either as it made her closer and more able to see the sparks reflect in his blue eyes, and exactly how those eyes lit up as they followed the sparks high into the sky where there met the stars. She wondered if that's where the boy's love came from.

Virgil, now seven months, was a complete mix that couldn't be foretold.

Since he'd remained _very much_ awake, they'd wrapped him up warmly and placed him in his pram between them. At times, he seemed very happy with this, hardly dozing, eyes definitely trailing the action, but silent and content. Then, at others, a complete flick in a matter of moments, he was protesting and reaching for them, not stopping until Jeff picked him up as he once had Scott.

She'd had to stifle a chuckle and shake her head at that.

"What?" Jeff queried, as Virgil returned to being quietly keen like an owl.

"I'm just thinking, it's a good thing there's only three of them, or we'd have run out of hands." She trusted her husband to hold the youngest in one arm whilst still maintaining his hold on the elder brunette, but in no way, shape or form did she trust herself to do the same.

Jeff had put to her his grand proposal on five children shortly after they left the hospital with the third in tow, merely with the argument that Virgil belonged in the middle of the family. She didn't dare put forth the argument that if you included he and her, in the line-up, they'd need another four children to make this so. But she had to admit, she'd fallen in love with the mere concept. She'd wanted a large family, designed her new life around it, but she had to admit that whilst pregnant with their current youngest, she'd wondered if the three of them would be enough.

She'd told him they'd think about it, take a break to sort out the one's they had before they thought about two more, yet there'd been a sign in Jeff's eyes as he drove that he'd caught the twinkle in hers.

Five _would_ happen. They both _wanted_ it to.

Thus she had expected at some point, there would come a Valentine's Day where they did run out of hands, especially as it seemed – only from two years of the event, but that was enough with their sons to garner things as near certainties – that John had no intention of ever being put down.

She realised that 2042 was the first Valentine's Day in the recent past years for which she hadn't been pregnant. Still, she was ultimately joking when she'd said it definitely wasn't just there evening any more in preparation for the fourth Valentine's Day with their sons in tow.

But February 14th 2043 held a very different type of fireworks indeed.

It was just a hunch, but she'd been proven right from the start.

And when this baby was late – fashionably, of course, Jeff had the naming rights won.

Gordon Copper Tracy definitely was a special spark: a firework display all by himself.

* * *

Valentine's Day.

 _Valentine's Day._

Of all the days in the year he had to be born on that one.

Well, thanks mum and dad, for not thinking that one through.

The rest of his brothers should consider themselves lucky nothing collided with their birthdays.

* * *

Christmas had been a wonderful family time, especially as Jeff's mother had insisted she host for them and the four grandsons. Personally, Lucy still marvelled at exactly _how_ the woman could handle babysitting all four of them at the same time, any time she and Jeff went out without the kids – which of course, was rare.

Still, here they all were, quite merrily sat around. Scott, now only a few months away from turning five, was proving to be a very adept child. She made little grand comment to it, but the eldest's initiative about 'always protecting your brother's' had definitely come from the workings of his own mind. Well, they were going to mention it, of course, but not until all of the boys were older, definitely not before they went to school. Though the lightbulb seemed to have worked it out.

The spark was another story. John, though only recently turned three, was shaping up to a genius. He'd fallen in love with the stars and quickly caught onto his parents loving them too. They couldn't go a month without sitting on the large lawn of an evening to watch them. She'd expected Scott to hate it, but once again the eldest had proven her wrong and insist that John should stay close to him in the dark. So it wasn't unusual for the blonde to end up asleep in the brunette's hold at the end of the night.

Scott had even made the offer of putting his brother to bed, but she'd thought that a step too far (on top of the – somehow – already too far steps) and told him she'd sort it. Regardless, he asked all the time now if there was anything he could do for his brothers, and it seemed somehow (only recently though as December, the month of decorating rolled around) he'd taken to asking if there was anything he could do for them.

She knew Jeff's favourite was the boy's offer to do his paperwork. Or at least, it was, until last month the eldest topped it all off with fussing over the amount of pillows his pregnant mother had.

As her husband burst into laughter, the only thing she could respond with was some very narrowed eyes and a simple, "I told you so."

Virgil, two already, had taken a liking to sitting near her whenever she played the piano. She shouldn't have been surprised when this Christmas, when she sat to play for the family carolling, he sat near (practically next) to her on the stool, close enough that occasionally his small fingers would reach out in an attempt to copy her speedy and mindless movements. She smiled at the soon-to-be middle child's actions, wondering whether music would be a fleeting interested.

Gordon, enjoying his first Christmas, was going to food and wrapping paper like there was no tomorrow, or as though there would never be another Christmas. She watched from the corner of her eyes how Jeff had to chase the troublesome baby to keep him from ripping open every present under the tree.

That, was quickly the other thing she'd learnt. Virgil was getting better at sleeping in the evenings, something which she expected was aided by his older brother's examples, especially Scott's as the boy now attempted tactics to get the younger brunette to sleep. Gordon on the other hand, didn't know the existence of the word for days before sleeping like a ton of rocks. He was the noisiest of them all and when he chose _not_ to sleep at night, it was always John who he woke first. Only recently had it been Scott moving to settle the younger again, before Jeff would insist he went back to bed. It spoke volumes though that Scott was woken by the current youngest _before_ his father.

Gordon was definitely the most tiring of her sons, the firework of the family and she could only hope the nearing seven-month-old unborn one wouldn't be the same trouble. Although, she thought, maybe that was the price she and Jeff were paying for skipping a year before having the fourth (and fifth) child.

Scott, still the most aware – though John was coming up hot on his tail with a large intelligence for someone of his age – was the most acute to the meaning of the boy's mother being pregnant and was quickly catching on to the rough and important elements of it. He was also perfectly capable of roughly working out nine months from the visual and aural clues he was given.

And that caused renewed panic when his thick as thieves partner, Scott asked, "Will the new baby be born in the same month as Gordon?" Because that reminded her there was every chance another of their children could be early.

"You never know Scott. John was early, Gordon late. This one might be too." And she decided that out of all he pregnancies, that was the thing Jeff said or did that she hated most. Because then Scott had said,

"But… if it's late, will it be born in the same month as me?"

She knew then that if it swung either way, she was doomed. And it was only then that Jeff's brows raised as he seemed to realise what he'd said.

As it was – surprisingly, yet thankfully – this was another baby on time, or as 'on time' as that ever meant – the fifth (and final) son arrived right where he was supposed to, in the weeks of mid-March, a safe distance from his eldest and closest brother's respective birthday's.

Only then did she let out a sigh of relief she'd been holding for the past three and final months, in anticipation.

And this name wasn't decided by one or the other of them.

Alan Shepard Tracy was their name, the choice made by the pair of them for the first time.

* * *

March 2044.

He was the last Tracy son.

He was the last Tracy child.

He hated it; in all his years, he never thought he'd like being the youngest.

It was a position of power - once learnt how to utilise - especially with two brother's birthdays close.

* * *

From the first day, to the last, the pictures and dates were placed into the back of their wedding album, which no longer really remained titled as that in their minds.

The only memorable day in their lives was never going to be about them once they'd added to the members of that life. It couldn't be. It couldn't be the sole day to remember over so many other top choices.

They were more than happy with their five wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, creative and daring sons.

And with having six memorable days.


End file.
